


Behind the Eight Ball

by DevinBourdain



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint whump, Possible Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:04:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevinBourdain/pseuds/DevinBourdain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feeling the need for space and a desire to protect a certain archer, Natasha demanded a mission from Fury. When she failed to make her scheduled check ins, SHIELD had no choice but to send in another agent. Now Barton and Romanoff have fallen into the hands of the enemy and are engaged in a game in which only one will make it out alive. </p><p> </p><p>"These could be our last moments together Barton."</p><p>"So what do you want to do Nat?"</p><p>"Whatever I want, with whoever I want." She leaned in and planted a passionate kiss on Clint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When You're Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Avengers characters are not mine, just borrowed for this story.
> 
> Reviews are always welcome and appreciated
> 
> Warnings: Language and Violence.

 

* * *

**Behind the Eight Ball**

Natasha's lungs burned but she kept telling herself to hold on for a few more seconds. If she went up before Clint was ready, he'd end up sucking in water, but if she waited too long she would pass out and never make it to the surface. It was exhausting having to take turns breaching the surface. Each time they had to swim further as the water level rose; treading water earlier had zapped the energy she had managed to regain. She still hadn't shaken off all of the drugs before this part of their nightmare kicked off.

She saw Clint's head duck below the water and Natasha pushed for the surface as fast as she could manage. Her heart fluttered as she was able to suck in the sweet sweet air. Part of her wanted to grip the top of the cell and never let go, never give up the precious gift of breathing. The only reason she focused on trying to take deep breaths and do it all again, was the fact that Barton was desperately waiting for his turn at the surface.

The archer watched from below. He held on tightly to the metal ring that was keeping them trapped, to prevent himself from being selfish and surfacing early. A few times Natasha had needed more time than Clint could allow and he had pulled her under. As a result she broke out into several coughing fits that required Clint stay under longer and surface for shorter periods of time, so Romanoff could get her breathing under control.

He could tell that she was slowing down, that her energy was waning. They could continue on as they had or he could initiate his plan and hope she had enough strength to tread water until the team arrived. All good things had to come to an end sooner or later; at least he knew if he went now that things were alright between them. Romanoff dove down to give him enough slack in the chain to reach the surface. Clint kicked his way up for the last time.

**72 Hours Earlier**

"You lost them! How do _you_ even loose two spies anyhow?" ranted Stark. He threw his copy of the mission brief onto the conference room table. Things were just starting to get back to some sort of normal and now the Fury was telling them that he had misplaced two members of their team.

"Complications happen all the time. The important thing is we fix them," explained Fury.

Loki had done a number on all of the Avengers but his greatest reaching impact was on Romanoff and Barton's relationship. Once again Clint had been forced to hurt the only family he had left and Natasha couldn't help but believe that if she hadn't allowed herself to get that close to the archer, the evils of the world wouldn't continue to tear him apart in a bid to cause her pain as well. There was only one way to keep him safe and she was the one that could do it.

The Black Widow had stormed into the Director's office and demanded reassignment. Nick had been hesitant at first but Natasha was nothing if not persuasive and eventually they found an assignment to her and the Director's liking.

Romanoff was tasked with infiltrating Hydra and going deep under cover. There were several projects that SHIELD was interested in getting their hands on and this would provide them the information they sought. Everything had been going smoothly; Romanoff ingrained herself seamlessly and the information came pouring in. The rest of the Avengers weren't quiet as thrilled as Natasha had been with the assignment but they all had some idea as to why half of their assassin duo decided to bolt.

The assignment had been everything Natasha was looking for, but last week everything changed. A weapons deal had been arranged in Los Angeles and Romanoff was going on behalf of Hydra to negotiate. When the deal had concluded and Hydra got their weapons, Natasha failed to meet her transport the next day. Her handler with Hydra sent a team to investigate but a newly acquired asset wasn't the highest priority. Her SHIELD handler became concerned when she failed to make contact before she was scheduled to leave LA, and the wheels of the shadowy organization began to turn.

When Romanoff failed to make contact two more times, Fury got involved. Natasha could think on her feet and adapt to anything thrown at her but no matter the circumstance, she would have found a way to contact them if she was alright. Armed with all the information SHIELD could gather, he called in Barton, knowing the archer would stop at nothing to find his missing partner. Knowing it was Natasha at stake, Clint had eagerly taken the assignment and set off to the last known whereabouts of Agent Romanoff.

Feeling responsible for her decision to leave the team, even if it was supposed to be temporary, Clint had to do something. She wouldn't have been out there all alone if it wasn't for him; no, if he had been strong enough to remove himself, she would be safe at the tower with the protection of the team. Natasha had fought for him when he couldn't fight for himself and now in this desperate time, he could do no less. Leaving the relative safety of Stark Tower and his fellow teammates, Barton set forth on his mission to save the Black Widow.

Getting straight to work, Hawkeye had communicated with his handler that he had a lead on their missing agent, but failed to make his check in later that night. After Clint also missed three check ins, Fury knew it was time to call in the big guns. Hopefully the Avengers could succeed where stealth and espionage failed.

Unfortunately that meant informing the rest of the team that Barton and Romanoff were officially MIA. The Director wasn't particularly thrilled about losing two of his best but he was even less thrilled about being made to look a fool, because really how does one lose two of the Avengers without any leads?

"In the brief are the last know locations for Agents Romanoff and Barton. All the information Barton had put together is in there along with the preliminary team's assessment of his last known location," informed Fury.

"Do we know who's behind this?" asked Rogers. Bruce and Thor looked at Fury, equally fretting just how horrible this situation could get. The Avengers had made their fair share of enemies; many of which were capable of rather inventive, if not as equally horrifying revenge plots.

"No one has taken credit for it. We know it's not Hydra; Romanoff's cover is still intact and our other operatives haven't reported anything to the contrary. We haven't found any evidence to indicate any of the usual suspects. It appears there is a new player on the scene."

"Well if this isn't going to be the needle in the hay stack," Tony muttered. "Is there anything you do know?"

"All of SHIELD's resources will be at your disposal. When you find this guy, I want you to send the message that no one messes with SHIELD," ordered the Director.

"You can start with a quinjet to LA, sir," said Rogers. They needed to get to their people. He couldn't shake the feeling deep down that time was going to be a huge factor.

"Pack your gear and be on the flight deck in one hour. And good luck," stated Fury.

Four very determined superheroes nodded in agreement and left to make preparations to find their friends. Fury snapped the pencil that was in his hand. Whoever had his agents was going to regret the day he was born.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When You're Gone by Bryan Adams ft Mel C


	2. Heartbeat

Clint's head throbbed. His extremities felt like lead and every muscle protested the simple act of breathing; the cold tiles under his body leaching any warmth he had. Barton cracked his eyes open to find everything blurry and distorted. Blinking a few times and shook his head to try and clear the fog that had settled. He hated being drugged; the effects always seemed to last forever.

Licking his painful dry lips he looked around; the cell had clear walls that extended to the ceiling. The top of the cell was a criss-cross bar pattern with squares big enough to get a hand through but didn't seem to serve any real purpose. His prison was small and it didn't take him long to notice Natasha crumpled in the other corner. A metal shackle was fastened to her foot and he followed the chain from her ankle through a metal ring bolted in the floor, to a shackle around his foot. They were joined together but their movements would he hindered by the ring the chain ran through.

Whoever had grabbed him had managed to get the drop of him, which wasn't easy to do. Ironically being jumped had brought him to Natasha, but it didn't look like their reunion was going to be positive. Despite the circumstance he was still relieved to lay eyes on his best friend.

He painstakingly crawled over to the other crumpled form and turned the Black Widow onto her back. "Can you hear me Natasha?" A small flinch and low moan was her only response. Barton checked for any injuries but found none; whatever they gave the pair was still flooding Romanoff's system. She had been drugged before Clint had arrived and who knows how long the bad guys had kept them drugged after. It was at least long enough to move them here. Clint gently placed her head in his lap and leaned against the wall to wait.

Judging by the cell, they had to have been lowered in through the roof because there were no doors or hinges in any of the clear walls. There was a possibility he could lift Romanoff high enough to try and pick the lock securing the chain that was wrapped around two of the bars. If he got his foot close enough to the metal ring there should be enough slack in the chain for Natasha to climb high enough to reach the top.

Their solitude didn't last long, as a door creaked open across the room from the cell and two men carrying weapons walked in to take position in the middle of the room. The guards kept their eyes focused on the Avengers in the cage but didn't breathe a word. A third man entered the room; he was casually dressed and didn't strike Barton as particularly threatening. His whole body language screamed indifference and he lacked the usual heir of smugness and maniacal genius that accompanied most of their enemies.

The man stared at Clint; the silence growing in the room until the archer couldn't take it anymore. "This is usually where the bad guy starts monologueing."

The man chuckled. "I don't think you're in a position to go on a long rant, do you?"

"Me?" Barton couldn't keep the surprised insulted quality from his voice. "I think we have some sort of a misunderstanding here. I thought Hydra taught all of its people their 'we are evil' mantra."

"I'm not Hydra."

"Then I'm going to have to ask you to throw me a bone here because we haven't met before."

"No we haven't but your impact on my life hasn't been dissuaded by that. You can call me Jack and I'm nothing more than a concerned citizen." The man stepped closer to the clear wall.

Taken out by an amateur, that stung a little. "Well _Jack_ , what is it you and the neighborhood watch are concerned about?"

"Someone needs to be held accountable for all the death and destruction you've caused; you and the rest of those supposed heroes. Did you give any thought to the innocent people that perished in your little battle? Do you realize the lives and families you destroyed or is it hard to think about that while reaping the spoils?" Jack's voice rose with each point, the calm demeanor slipping away.

The archer's retort was equally as vicious. "We didn't choose to have an alien invasion and we didn't pick where it was going to be or what unfortunate souls were claimed as collateral damage. We tried to save as many as we could but war isn't nice to anyone." A horrible feeling started to rise in Clint's gut. The man before him had no affiliation with the usual bad guys, yet he had managed to put all this together, gain followers and not only capture two of the Avengers, but figure out the identities of two of their more elusive members. Something like that required a lot of motivation and drive.

In a more calm and reasonable manner, Jack asked, "Have you ever lost someone important to you Mr. Barton?"

"Yes, I've been losing people my whole life," admitted the archer.

"Lose anyone to the debacle in Manhattan?" Anger flashed in Jack's eyes mixed with a desperate kind of hope.

Clint sucked in a deep breath. Coulson's death still stung, even a year later and the guilt over the part he had played in the man's demise hadn't lessened one bit. "Yes."

"Then maybe you can fathom what it would be like to lose your wife and daughter on that day. I'm going to make sure you know what it feels like to lose the people that matter most to you." The calm and collectedness, from the start of the conversation bled away to be replaced by seething hatred. "Better men than I have tried to take out the Avengers and failed so I have no doubt your precious team will be here to rescue you; in fact I'm counting on it. The chain is only long enough for one of you to reach the air holes at the top of the cage. As the water fills the cage you're going to run out of space to keep you heads above water. You will have to tread water but eventually you will run out of chain for both of you to breath at the same time. You can both drown or one of you can because you won't be able to take turns breathing forever; someone will get tired or refuse to share."

Clint did some quick calculations on his head. Jack was right; the chain was only long enough for one of them to reach the air holes at the top of the cell. If he and Natasha were at one hundred percent, they might be able to take turns breathing until the team showed up but Clint knew he hadn't completely burned the drugs off, and Romanoff wasn't even conscious yet. He was suddenly faced with the very real possibility that one of them wasn't going to make it out of there.

"You're going to have to watch someone you love die Mr. Barton or she can watch you drown, I care not, but your team will learn what it's like to loss someone. Maybe if you learn that lesson, you'll try harder next time to protect the innocents, if you insist on being heroes." The agony of loss pulsated through Jack, demanding to be shared with the world.

"People die; good people die all the time. We can't save everyone but we try to save as many as possible. You're putting future lives in jeopardy by doing this." Jack simply snorted at Clint's protests.

The archer had to get Natasha out of there. If either of them deserved to make it out of this, it was her. He had come all this way to rescue her when Furry had said she was missing, he couldn't let her down now. "Please." Barton's voice became soft and pleading. "If you only care if one of us dies, let her go. She can be the one the team finds and you can do whatever you want with me."

Jack thought it over for a moment. There was still the small voice in his head that said killing and vengeance were wrong. There was also the gut wrenching pain of loss he had experienced that seemed to trump everything. "I don't think the lesson will be quiet as well taught if I let you martyr yourself. We'll talk later though; until then enjoy your time together."

Jack turned and walked out of the room with his two lackeys in tow. A moment after the door slammed shut, water started to bubble up through the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heartbeat by Jjamz


	3. Need You Now

The water flowed in steadily but not at an alarmingly fast rate. It would be a few hours until they had to start treading water and a few more after that before the water would be too high for both of them to breathe at the same time. Natasha was still unconscious despite Clint's efforts to wake her, and he did his best to ignore the growing panic that was starting to take root within him. He had pulled her close, leaning together against the wall, the only connection to anything safe and reassuring in an otherwise bleak existence.

Having Natasha there curled into his side was oddly calming and comforting. If he had to go, he was glad the last thing he'd see was her. That was the only option really; either she would live or they'd both drown here. There was no way Clint was going to live at Natasha's expense, so if either of them was going to drown it was him. He would do everything in his power to make sure she was the one the team could save, but if she couldn't tread water on her own, if she couldn't shake the drugs in her system then... Clint shuddered.

He brushed a wayward strand of hair from her cheek and Natasha let out a soft moan before snuggling in closer. It was a moment that Clint wanted to hold on to, to place inside a protective bubble and selfishly keep it for himself; instead he had to focus on trying to find a way out of this mess. All those years of training, of missions and the moment he needed to perform the impossible, it was looking like he wouldn't be able to pull off a miracle.

Clint wasn't sure if it was wounded pride or something else, but the two of them there, facing death because of the relationship they both tried so hard to deny, was infuriating. All those missed opportunities under the guise that 'the highly trained enemy will use it against them' were for not, as it was an amateur bent on revenge for his lost love and family that was dooming them now.

That was the crutch of it; Barton could relate to the man that was hell bent on killing them. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Natasha and even the other Avengers. Heaven help anyone that took any of them away from him, but all the empathy in the world couldn't allow him to let this man get away with this. He made a silent promise to the universe, that if some miracle occurred and they both survived this, he would remove this threat to his family. If he didn't get to see outside this cell ever again, he prayed that the Avengers would see him avenged.

The water was up to their waists and he realized that soon they would have to stand up. At least the water wasn't freezing; that was one small mercy. Hypothermia would only complicate things more and reduce Romanoff's chances of surviving, because Clint had made up his mind; she was going to make it through this.

Natasha raised her head and looked around the room; her eyes glassy and desperately trying to droop closed. Her head almost flopped back onto Barton's shoulder when she suddenly snapped to rigid attention. Twisting herself to look her partner up and down, she then did a quick survey of the room.

Natasha didn't need to ask the question, it was written all over her face. "You were captured and Fury sent me to look for you. Things didn't go according to plan," explained the archer as he let out a self-deprecating chuckle, "and now we're both trapped here. The cell's filling up with water but there are air holes at the top. Going to have to tread water for a while, but _Jack,_ was concerned the team was on their way, so we're just going to have to hold out. It's his bid for revenge against us for his wife and child dying during the invasion."

He wasn't going to tell her that at best, only one of them would survive. She needed to cling to the belief that they were both going to see this through. He couldn't risk her doing something stupid like removing herself from the equation; that was his job.

She let the information settle in her brain; a thousand emotions flashing little sparks in her eyes. Natasha wanted to thank him for coming for her, wanted to slap him upside the head for coming after her, wanted to tell him she wasn't worth this kind of devotion and effort, and wanted to scream that this was exactly why she left. She did none of those things. Instead she reached over and hugged him, her arms wrapping tightly around his solid form. Natasha knew Clint was momentarily stunned by the action; she wasn't a hugger or big on sentimental touches, but he eventually squeezed back.

"You shouldn't have come Clint." It was a softly spoken statement of fact.

"In what world do you think I wouldn't be the first one here?" There was fear in his eyes; after all they'd been through did she really believe he could just throw her away like that? Unlike him, she was something worth hanging on to, a bright spot amongst the blood and death that he brought.

She let out a frustrated sigh. "That's the point, that's the whole point. We just get each other into trouble."

"Is this really the time for this?" muttered the archer.

"M-might not be 'nother time," slurred Natasha, the disorientation and sluggishness from earlier forcing itself upon her once more.

"Tasha?" Concern flared within him.

"So tired, Barton." The adrenaline from first realizing the situation was wearing off and the drugs were pulling her back under; her eyes starting to roll into the back of her head.

Clint pulled her close to him again; his chin resting on her head as she nuzzled into his neck. "Get some rest. I'll wake you when the danger kicks up a notch." She needed to get as much rest as possible, who knew how long she'd have to tread water later.

* * *

"Nat, I need you to wake up!"

Romanoff let out a small huff at the annoying shaking. She couldn't remember a time in her life that she felt that tired. There was a small flicker somewhere in her mind that urged her to open her eyes; there was something important going on. Whatever it was, was it really worth prying herself out of Clint's protective embrace?

"Come on Nat; the water's getting high enough that we have to stand up now."

His voice was always so calm and reassuring that Natasha could get lost in it if she wanted to, but there was hidden alarm there now and that spurred her on. Water splashed in her face as Clint stood up. It snapped her back to reality for a moment and she gripped the hand that the archer offered her.

She swayed on her feet slightly but Clint pulled her close to steady her. Natasha's head was a bit clearer but things were still fuzzy. She looked around their cell to ascertain the situation for herself and reaffirm the horror. Clint had been left to deal with everything on his own while she was unconscious; a fact that Romanoff felt kind of bad about. Giving the chain and shackle around her foot a quick tug revealed that it wasn't coming off without help and she quickly came to the same conclusion Barton did about there being only one possible way out.

At the top of the cage a sliver of silver caught her eye. "Is that a crowbar up there?" asked Romanoff. The world was still blurring slightly and she wasn't sure she could trust what she was seeing. Desperate hope might be allowing her to see the ghost of hope when there was only doom.

Clint turned in the direction she was pointing. Sure enough, tucked in the corner barley visible was a crowbar; the archer silently cursed himself for not seeing it earlier, he was after all the one that saw everything. It could come in handy to try and pry the metal ring out of the bottom of the cell or if they got lucky, help break the chain. The only problem was in order to get to the crowbar they would have to be able to pop the hatch at the top to grab it.

Natasha began searching her pockets and hiding places in her clothes. Coming up empty she asked, "Lock picks?"

"No, they managed to strip us of anything useful." A shot a salvation and it was just out of reach.

"What are we going to do?"

"Gotta just hold on until the team gets here," assured Barton.

Years of partnership made it possible to hear the lingering doubt that Clint was trying to hide. They'd been in impossible situations before, many, and always managed to find away. Defying the odds is what made them great. This time it just felt different. For something so simple, to be chained in a room with the water rising, death felt like it had grabbed a hold of them and wasn't going to let go this time. "Clint. I have to tell you something."

Barton shook his head. "Tasha..."

The water was at chest level and the space left was feeling claustrophobic. All the things that remained unsaid in their friendship were weighing down on them and stealing the breathable space left. All the feelings that demanded to be shared but never materialized into words were screaming to get out, but the words still failed to materialize. The things Natasha so desperately wanted to convey couldn't be explained in words.

How do you thank someone for believing in you when the rest of the world had written you off? Can you repay someone for being your rock and providing you with that safe and secure feeling even in the direst situations? That's what Clint was; that calm reassurance that no matter how desperate things were, it was all going to be ok. How do you thank someone for giving you your life?

"I want to tell you why I left Clint," insisted Romanoff.

"I know Natasha. We don't have to hash it out." Clint didn't think he could bear to hear that he had taken the one bright light in his life and desecrated it with blue malice on the whim of a mad man. It had been so easy for her to leave, just like everyone else in his life had, he just wanted to pretend for a little while longer that maybe she felt the same way about him the he did her; maybe he could be loved.

"No, I don't think you do Clint." Their eyes locked; his full of fear and hers full of need. For a moment her cowardice abandoned her and the words surged off her lips, "Clint, I lo..."

The door to the room swung open with a tremendous bang and Jack walked bristly into the room; a diabolical smirk firmly contorting his features. "I see everyone is going to participate in our final party game after all. I was concerned my dear, that you wouldn't be with us when things got interesting."

The archer instinctively pulled his partner behind him to shield her from the vengeful eel preparing to taunt them. "There's still time to stop this. Do you really think this is what your wife and child would want? Do you think they would look at you with love and admiration if they knew you were nothing but a cold blooded killer?"

Something akin to hesitance flashed in Jack's dark eyes. Memories of his sweet little angel squeezing him tight and proclaiming him her hero flashed through his mind. This would truly be an unforgivable act worthy of Satan's lap dog surely, but they had to learn. Actions had consequences and now they must all reap what they sow. "We can all go to hell together then, so we don't taint the peaceful lives of angels sent too early to perch in heaven."

"You don't have to do this," reiterated Barton. There was a pleading sound to his voice that sounded so foreign, like it was from a distant memory of dire situations past; other moments in his life that ended in blood and death.

"I think we're past the point of no return Mr. Barton. Your team is six hours out and you have two and a half hours until you will no longer be able to breathe at the same time. I'll leave you two to your final moments. Enjoy them, it's far more than I got when you took my family away from me." Jack took his leave and left the two assassins alone in a flooding tomb.

* * *

The water had risen to their necks and a growing panic was starting to set in. Neither agent was good at doing nothing when their lives were on the line. After Jack had interrupted Natasha's moment of confession, they both had fallen into silence. Romanoff had managed to stay awake but neither one commented on how much she was depending on Clint to keep her on her feet.

She started at the top of their cage, as if by sheer determination and glare the crowbar would fall into their laps. Different scenarios that might get them that crowbar played through her head. "My bra!"

She felt Clint tense up behind her. He practically choked out, "What?"

"Bras have wire in them. If I can get it out I might be able to use it to pick the lock," explained Romanoff as she turned to look at her partner. A wave of relief swept over him though she wasn't sure if it was due to her revelation or relief for some other thought he had jumped to. She smiled to herself as he turned away while she wiggled out of her bra; the gentleman thing was kind of cute, especially considering he had seen her naked before. It took a bit of fiddling but she managed to pry the wire free of the material.

Clint looked from Natasha to the top of the cell. "Boost?"

Natasha nodded and Clint clasped his hands together for her to put her foot on. It wasn't graceful but she managed to climb onto his shoulders. It was proving more difficult than any other time she had to pick a lock and the growing pressure wasn't helping. With Natasha standing on his shoulders the chain connecting them was pulled tight, so even if the archer could tread water while holding someone up he lacked the chain length to move.

Natasha continued on diligently working. Clint never said a word as the water level moved past his lips and hovered just under his nose. She wouldn't even have realized the water reached his eye level is she didn't hear him inhaling deeply just seconds before. Just ten more seconds and she's have the lock picked.

It finally clicked and she immediately jumped off of Barton. Clint came shooting up out of the water coughing and sputtering. His eyes were wild as he sucked in deep breaths. When he finally got his breathing under control he looked over at Natasha who shifted her concern to a smile and held up the lock. Things were looking up.

"How long can you hold your breath?" asked Romanoff.

"How long do you need?"

"That's not what I asked Barton."

Clint shrugged. "If you give me a couple minutes to get ready… two and a half, three minutes."

Natasha thought it over. Barton would have to submerge himself while she climbed back on his shoulders, pop open the hatch, pull herself up on the bars and grab the crowbar then drop back down to give Clint enough slack to get back to the surface. The problem was, she was still sluggish from the drugs and the prospect of holding herself up on the bars seemed exhausting. Further compounding the situation was that if Barton could only hold his breath for three minutes, then he must still be feeling the drug's effect too.

The archer gave Romanoff a nod and put his hands out for Natasha again. She counted off on her fingers from three then pushed up as Barton sucked in a deep breath. As quickly as she was able, Natasha perched on his shoulders and popped the hatch open. Taking a deep breath of her own she mentally fortified herself for what she had to do.

Clint stayed as still as possible to help maintain Natasha's balance and reduce his need for oxygen. He could feel her stepping on him and held back a grunt. He focused on the air bubbles slowly slipping through his lips and rising to the surface. As his lungs started to burn and demand oxygen Clint repeated in his head _just a couple more seconds._ Just when he could hold it no longer, when his body over rode his will and demanded to take a big gulp, Barton felt Natasha jump off of him and he frantically pushed towards the surface.

Natasha waited until Clint got his coughing and sputtering under control before she held up the crowbar smiling triumphantly.

* * *

They had been taking turns diving down and trying to reef the metal ring out of the bottom of the cell. First Clint would dive down and put his best effort into it, then he would surface and Natasha would go under. They even tried it together a few times; all they got for their efforts were fuzzy dizzy spells from lack of oxygen. The metal ring didn't budge so Barton suggested they try and break the chain.

Each time they surfaced the chain pulled a little tauter and soon they would have to take turns breathing. Just before Clint dove down for the last time before the duo would have to take turns getting to the surface, Natasha grabbed his arm and held him up. They stayed like that, treading water for a few seconds; Clint's eyes beseeching for an explanation.

Her confession had been interrupted earlier and then she had gotten swept up in the possibility that they could escape this hell; now their options were coming to an end. The energy and oxygen required to maintain their escape efforts wouldn't survive if they had to hold their breath long enough for the other to re-oxygenate. This would be their last attempt and she really didn't hold out hope that they would prevail. More importantly this was the last time they would both be above water and able to speak to each other.

"These could be our last moments together Barton."

"So what do you want to do Nat?"

"Whatever I want, with whoever I want." She leaned in and planted a passionate kiss on Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Need You Now by Lady Antebellum


	4. No One's Gonna to Love You

Natasha's lungs burned but she kept telling herself to hold on for a few more seconds. If she went up before Clint was ready, he'd end up sucking in water, but if she waited too long she would pass out and never make it to the surface. It was exhausting having to take turns breaching the surface. Each time they had to swim further as the water level rose; treading water earlier had zapped the energy she had managed to regain. She still hadn't shaken off all of the drugs before this part of their nightmare kicked off.

She saw Clint's head duck below the water and Natasha pushed for the surface as fast as she could manage. Her heart fluttered as she was able to suck in the sweet sweet air. Part of her wanted to grip the top of the cell and never let go, never give up the precious gift of breathing. The only reason she focused on trying to take deep breaths and do it all again, was the fact that Barton was desperately waiting for his turn at the surface.

The archer watched from below. He held on tightly to the metal ring that was keeping them trapped, to prevent himself from being selfish and surfacing early. A few times Natasha had needed more time than Clint could allow and he had pulled her under. As a result she broke out into several coughing fits that required Clint stay under longer and surface for shorter periods of time, so Romanoff could get her breathing under control.

He could tell that she was slowing down, that her energy was waning. They could continue on as they had or he could initiate his plan and hope she had enough strength to tread water until the team arrived. All good things had to come to an end sooner or later; at least he knew if he went now that things were alright between them. Romanoff dove down to give him enough slack in the chain to reach the surface. Clint kicked his way up for the last time.

Barton sucked in his last gulp of air and dove back down. As he passed by Natasha he grabbed a hold of her and kissed her on the lips. When they pulled apart she cocked her head at him for a moment but had to refocus on her need to take a breath. He waited until she breached the surface then looked at the belt he had liberated from her while they kissed. He owed her his life, but human nature being what is, he couldn't grantee that he wouldn't fight his own intentions and try for the surface.

Grabbing the metal ring at the bottom he slipped the belt through, his fingers steady in their task. He tied it and buckled it around his arm. Normally he would be able to get it off in a flash but he could restrain himself until panic set in and at that point his senses would be too fuzzy to undo the simple knot. He waited, watching the little air bubbles he was releasing float up. It probably would have been better to just take a big drink of water, but he was determined to take every moment he could to just look at Natasha; he had to get his fill for a life time.

Romanoff headed back to the bottom of the cell but stopped short when she saw Barton sitting there. A frown over took her and she raised her hands in a 'what the hell' gesture. Not getting a response she angrily motioned for him to take his turn above. The archer fervently shook his head. It was then that she noticed the belt secured around her partner's wrist. She would admire his stealth later; right now rage was boiling in her blood.

She reached over to undo the tether only to have Barton slap her hands away. They glared at each other; every time she tried to move closer he would block her. Natasha could see how close the archer was to having to take a breath, and if she was honest she needed to as well. It was a terrifying prospect to leave him there and swim back to the surface, but if they both drowned now, neither would get help. She took in a large breath and returned to Clint immediately. His protests were weaker and she managed to grab the back of his head and force their lips together. She pushed as much air through his lips as possible, then made a mad dash back to the surface.

When Natasha returned she was able to undo the belt without incident. Again she breathed into Barton; he offered her a small smile before his eyes rolled in the back of his head. Romanoff wrapped her arms around him and kicked towards the surface. All she had to do was get him to the surface and get him to take a breath, then she could slap him upside the head for his stupidity. They were a foot away from breathing, twelve inches from helping the most important person in the world to her when the chain snapped tight, bring the pair to an abrupt halt; only one could reach the surface at a time.

Panic over took her. She could continue buddy breathing but she would have to let go of him to make the surface and he would sink down, sink further away from her. She could push him up but there was no guarantee that he would be able to take a breath on his own. The light headed feeling was over taking her and Natasha let go. If they were both unconscious neither would make it.

Romanoff went with her first option and continued to breathe into her partner. She had the horrible sinking feeling that the oxygen wasn't being used; she continued anyways. She wouldn't give up no matter how pointless the endeavor; it was Clint after all.

Natasha thought she was succumbing to hypoxia as she caught the impressive form of Iron Man from outside the cell. Stark raised his hand, blue light building, and Natasha grabbed her partner's limp body, pulling him as far away from the glass as possible. The bright light of Tony's repulsar preceded the shattering glass and the tidal wave that washed out over the room. Natasha and Clint went with the water but the chain held them tight stopping them just short of sliding into Stark. Bruce and Rogers ran into the room in slow motion; everything was painfully slow.

"Clint," choked Natasha as she desperately clutched the unconscious archer. She had to make the team understand; someone had to help Barton.

Banner grabbed Natasha's chin, His brown eyes full of concern and worry. "Are you Ok?"

"Clint!" Her voice was coming out sharp and panicky now. She wasn't sure they could hear her over the loud thudding of her heart.

"Natasha focus; are you alright?" insisted Bruce, trying to keep her eyes locked on his.

The words died on her lips as she watched Iron Man snap the chain; it seemed so simple, like it didn't require any effort at all. Then Steve's steady hands wrapped around hers before he pulled the archer from her grasp. Tony flipped up his face plate and switched places with the doctor. He held Natasha tightly and whispered soft encouragements to her. As she sat there frozen watching Banner perform mouth to mouth while Steve did chest compressions, all she could think was how love was for children; only they would idolize such tragic figures like Romeo and Juliet and romance the fact that love was just painful loss in the end.

"One…

… two…

…three…"

The words pounded in her head as Rogers called them out.

"…eleven…

… twelve…

…thirteen…

…fourteen…

…fifteen…

…breathe."

Steve counted out the chest compressions. It became the rhythm of Romanoff's heart. Her breath hitched every time Rogers' frown deepened.

It took forever but eventually Barton's back arched slightly and water gushed out of his mouth. "Roll him on his side," ordered Bruce.

Natasha struggled in Tony's grip as the SHIELD medical team came and blocked her view of the archer. When Stark finally managed to calm her down, the medical team and Barton were gone.

"Natasha let's get you to medical; just to be safe. Do you think you can stand?" asked Bruce. Romanoff just stared at the spot on the floor where her partner had been laying.

* * *

**Two days later**

Banner knocked softly on the door to Natasha's room; he wasn't sure if she would answer today. After medical had cleared her two days ago she had locked herself in her room at Stark Tower. The team wasn't sure how to take that; they could understand needing time alone but she hadn't even gone to check up on Barton. Just as Bruce was about to give up, the door opened a crack. Romanoff peered out and looked Bruce up and down, then without saying a word, she retreated back into her apartment leaving the door open. Banner assumed that was the most of an invitation that he was going to get and walked in.

He let out an exacerbated sigh as he saw the bag on the bed full of clothes and weapons and the rest of the apartment in complete disarray. "You're running away?"

"I'm looking out for Clint. I would think you would understand that," she snapped as she emerged from the bathroom with a bag of toiletries.

He did understand that, but something about this just felt wrong. "He's going to be alright you know. The test results came back and there's no long term lung or brain damage; he got lucky."

"He's going to remain fine as soon as I'm out of here."

"You don't really want to leave Natasha."

She paused for a moment, trying to figure out a convincing lie to deny the truth. "We don't always get what we want; isn't that right?"

"That's different," countered Bruce.

"No, actually it's exactly the same. It might not be _me_ he has to directly fear, it will be some blood thirsty maniac who goes after him just to hurt me."

"So you're planning on leaving again, because that idea didn't exactly keep him safe this time."

"There won't be any collateral damage if he can't find me," argued Natasha.

Going in for the kill, he asked, "And what do you think you're doing to him?"

"I'm looking out _for_ him!" shouted Romanoff. "He's the first person in my life that ever gave a damn; the closest thing to family I've ever had. I can't lose that Bruce, I won't."

"And what do you think you are to him?"

"He has you guys, he'll be alright."

"You have us too. Whatever the two of you have, it's not something we can ever duplicate. Yes, there's always a chance that someone will come after one of you to exploit that, but Natasha, I saw him when you were gone. He tried to hide it but... if you leave that will kill him just as surely as any bad guy gunning for us." The awkward pause stretched out and Bruce realized he would have to be the one to break it. "Just think about it before you do anything rash, please."

Natasha remained silent as Banner left. Once the door clicked shut she threw her bag off the bed in a fit of rage and crumpled to the floor. The tears that she had long denied in her life began to silently fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No One's Gonna to Love You by Band of Horses


	5. Home

Natasha paused at the door and peered through the observation window at the occupant lying in the bed. Her hand hovered above the door handle; she still had time to make the right decision, to walk away and keep the one person that mattered most safe from the fallout that came from loving her. Bruce's words tumbled through her head and the overwhelming desire to be selfish, to grab a hold and never let go swept over her. So many people had died because of her, could she really let the one she loved back suffer that fate?

She watched Clint through the window for what seemed like forever. There were lines of fatigue on his face that hadn't been there a year ago, a weight on his shoulders that had shifted and changed but never completely lifted. Natasha couldn't help but feel guilty for adding to that burden that he had become so adept at carrying. Seeing him, alone in that hospital room, he looked far too vulnerable for someone that had saved her life countless times. Taking a deep breath she opened the door.

"I thought you would have escaped by now," said Natasha as she leaned up against the door.

Clint shifted his gaze from the world outside the hospital window to his late guest. "Well I figured I could live without the irony of surviving that, only to drop dead from secondary drowning somewhere. Doctors say I should be able to leave sometime tomorrow."

Natasha stepped further into the room and took the chair beside Clint's bed. Her usual confident strides replaced by more hesitant and apologetic steps.

"When I woke up and you weren't here... I figured you left Nat." His words were hesitant, like he dared not hope that she would stay.

"I'm not going to lie, the thought crossed my mind."

"But?" There was the sweet innocence of hope in his voice and the thought of crushing it almost crippled Romanoff.

"Clint you know how I feel and I know how you feel, but it isn't enough; love just isn't enough. I want this, I want to look forward to curling up with you when we're old and grey but if we do this now, it won't last. It going to end bloody and badly and I don't want that for us. However you feel you have to bury it down deep where no one's going to find it or touch it. This will be your motivator to make it back from every situation, every assignment. You're going to survive until we can retire like normal people, agreed?"

They both knew the chances of that scenario coming to fruition, but hope, no matter how miniscule, was still hope. With a reluctant nod he agreed to her terms. He would take her any way he could get her; the alternative was too painful to consider. Barton didn't think he could survive loosing anymore people he cared about. Natasha promptly reached over and slapped Clint upside the head.

"What the hell Natasha?"

"That's for the stupid stunt you pulled back there. If you ever do that again, you won't have to worry about some bad guy taking you out; I'll do it myself," warned the assassin.

"Yes ma'am," replied Clint as his partner stood up and headed towards the door.

"And hurry up and get the hell out of here Barton. Stark's driving me nuts." With that Natasha headed back to Stark Tower.

Clint lay back on his bed. One day, it was a promise that neither one would probably live to see but it was more than he ever dared to have before. Coming from Natasha, it's all he could really ask for.

* * *

Epilogue

Tony had always been prone to self-destructive behaviour, but he promised himself this that subtlety ogling Romanoff's ass as she rummaged through the fridge, was more an attempt to offer normality and reassurance, than the quickest route to a painful death. He leaned in the door way waiting for the assassin to poke her head out before making his presence known.

"I won't hesitate to smother you with a watermelon if you don't put your eyes somewhere more appropriate," warned Natasha without pausing in her search.

The billionaire cleared his throat and took a seat at the kitchen table. "So you decided to stay."

Natasha stood up and gave Tony a questioning glance.

"What? The rest of us do talk when you're not in the room and occasionally we talk about this team and the status of its members… mostly my greatness and never ending contributions to our success but sometimes you."

She rolled her eyes and slammed the carton of milk down on top of the fridge door to display the source of her irritation to Stark. He tried not to smile at his handiwork. "Yeah, I was going to start distributing them around town but since your back..." he muttered, waving his hand absently at the milk carton with the mission persons poster attached displaying a clear picture of Natasha.

Natasha tried to ignore the warmth that was spreading through her but a small smile pulled at her lips. This rag-tag group of misfits had done something no one else had managed; they made her feel like part of a family. They'd always put the fun in dysfunctional but she could make that work. She was going to stay for Barton but perhaps the other benefits of this new and weird family were worth sticking around for too.

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Home by Daughtry
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read this story.


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